Your poem, Tom, evokes a moment some decades ago when I was privileged to come alongside a great eastward migration of geese while driving across Arkansas on a bright winter morning in early January. The formation was many miles in length and a hundred or more yards wide; a great river of birds, a coherent stream of life moving in the sky, with purpose. Why they were flying east at the onset of winter is beyond my ken. Perhaps, following some invisible aerial highway, they would swing right at the Mississippi River and navigate south to warmer climes. Though our routes ran parallel for a good while, I eventually overtook them somewhere west of Memphis. I’ve never seen anything like it, before or since.

Beautiful poem and photos. Once upon a time, seems like a lifetime ago, I saw those sandhill cranes up in Eastern Oregon (at the Malheur Wilderness Area), and wrote this poem, which seems now to take on new life in light of these photos --

BLOOD

The sandhill cranes inflight like swallows andother small birds havelearned to rely on instinct. That is whywhen they get up orrather wheel intothe cold, Canada

Oh my here's another one -- closer to home, must have been written sometime after Oona was born, seems to go particularly well with the third photo here --

Domestic

Audubon Canyon Ranch

Somewhere the sandhill cranes are flying,With a long sweep of the neck testThe rushes, swampgrass, marsh and dryingShoreline for food, a place to rest;Are circling down, deep-throated, cryingLouder, round and around the nest--The fish in the belly of the greatGrey fisher, flesh for the proud mate.

The navigational and aeronautic skills and grace and sheer excellence of the presence on the planet of such majestic birds inspires humility.

Last weekend they had the annual Sandhill Crane Festival over in Lodi; those rich delta wetlands have been a migratory destination for the sandhills, coming down from as far as Siberia, going back before what we call history.

As though they cared about that.

In some of the photographic evidence one sees the sandhills with wings ragged and a bit the worse for wear after their long flight. Just so we don't get the impression it's an easy thing to do those amazing journeys...

Ah Steve, I do remember the great bird sightings at Audobon Canyon.

Those are beautiful poems and Hazen's memories of the great eastward migration across Arkansas also went straight to the heart of the imagination.

Great poems and great pictures all around! Delightful. And who is he who doesnt love cranes.. Wonder if you know about the Demosoille cranes we have coming over here every winter. They have to cross the mighty Himalayas.. That is no mean task to perform.

(Skip to around 3:25 for the demosoilles although the entire video is a marvel beginning with an incredible opening shot. But not the best quality I’m afraid…)http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WseWyh1Bhuc&feature=relmfu

another vid with a much better quality here,http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XWruZlnI71M